


A Matter of Perspective

by ladydeathfaerie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Language, M/M, Off Screen Death, Some minor violence, a Barton family reunion, but it doesn't include canon characters, the WSC is filled with dicks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-29
Updated: 2013-10-29
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladydeathfaerie/pseuds/ladydeathfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Its been a very long time since Clint has seen his brother, but a random news report changes all that. Barney is back and trying to garner Clint's attention by sending him messages that only he will understand. Mention on the news of a fire at a state home in Iowa sees Clint seeking out his brother, intent on stopping Barney before he can leave a trail of destruction in his wake. And he'll do whatever he has to to achieve his goal. </p>
<p>It doesn't come as a surprise to Phil that the World Security Council has put a price on Clint's head. They've been out for blood ever since the battle of New York. And any other time, he'd be leading the mission to get the missing Avenger back. But medical still has him on desk duty, so all he can do is hope that Clint's team finds him before the World Security Council does. Because if they take Clint into custody, Phil will never see his partner again.</p>
<p>He's nearly lost Clint once. He isn't about to let it happen again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Matter of Perspective

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iantosgal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iantosgal/gifts).



> this is my offering to iantosgal for the Avengersfest exchange. i tried to do a blend of movie and comics, which means Clint's childhood was spent in an orphanage and a circus. this story takes place some time after the movie ended. it does not include any events from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.
> 
> i really hope you like it. :)
> 
> please take note that this story shifts between past and present tense.

Clint closes his eyes and thinks about Phil for a moment. It feels like its been a year since he last saw Phil's face. It feels like a lifetime ago when he last had opportunity to kiss Phil and tell him how much he cared. It feels like a fading, distant memory. He wishes he'd had an opportunity to say goodbye to Phil, to tell him one last time that he was the best thing to ever happen to Clint. He wishes that he had one last opportunity to kiss Phil and tell him that every day with him was a gift that Clint cherishes with all his heart. He wishes...

The loose board on the porch creaks under the weight of a heavy boot and Clint opens his eyes. Despite the weariness that eats at him and the fact that he knows there's no way he'll come out of this alive, his hands are steady and the tip of his arrow is pointed dead center of the door. Whoever comes through it first will have Clint's last arrow through their chest. Its the best he can do, given the circumstances. He wishes he could do more. He wishes...

The knob turns as silently as possible.

There is no where to go in the one room cabin. Not that he'd have run away or hidden if he'd been able. He's an Avenger and he'll go down fighting. He just wishes he could have made his last stand on his feet. With more than a single arrow. A single, normal arrow. 

Clint holds his breath as the knob finishes turning, waiting for the right moment. Waiting so that he can look his target in the eye when he lets the arrow fly. He's full of anger and rage. This is not how he wants to end his days. He doesn't like the idea of dying at the hands of madmen and killers. Of course, he doesn't like the idea of dying by his own brother's arrow. If not for his quick reflexes, he just might have. Still, his glance flicks briefly to the shaft that protrudes from his thigh, watches the sluggish way the blood oozes out around it. Flicks back to the door. The panel swings wide.

Clint wishes that he could see Phil one last time.

A figure fills the door and he lets the arrow fly. There's a muffled thump as the point drives home, then a louder thump as the body hits the floor. A second later, thunder rumbles and rolls overhead and the entire cabin shakes. Clint's thrown to the floor. He lands so hard that his leg is jarred. Pain washes through him and his vision swims black. He has a moment to make note of the brilliant flash of lightning that shows through the door. He hears a familiar roar in the distance. He thinks again of Phil. 

Then the world is gone and so is he as everything is swallowed up by darkness.

~*~*~*~*~

He was in the middle of sauteing mushrooms to go with the steaks when something on the news caught his attention. Clint wasn't given to watching the news because it was never anything good. Or there were reports on Avengers sightings. Or there were speculating newscasters about how the problems were directly related to the presence of the Avengers. Or some other bullshit that usually got his blood boiling. He'd seen a lot of weird crap happen over the years and it always upset him when someone suggested that the only reason there were such horrible events happening in the world was because the Avengers were in the world. He still didn't know why he hadn't changed the channel off the news when he'd flicked it on. 

_"Tragedy in Iowa today as a fire destroys a group home and takes the lives of several children and an adult, leaving many without a home and an entire community steeped in grief."_ Setting the pan aside, Clint gave his full attention to the serious face of the newscaster as she stared straight at the camera. 

Something heavy and painful settled in the region of his heart. The faces of four boys and three girls flashed across the screen, none of them older than seven. They'd been in the system for a while because there was no hope in their eyes in those pictures. He hated the idea of children dying. And he might not have really paid attention to it if not for the mention of Iowa and a picture of a familiar building. It had been updated since he'd last seen it, given fresh paint and a new look, but it was still the same old, worn down building he remembered from his childhood. The reporter was going on about the terrible tragedy, but Clint paid her words no mind. Instead, he stared at the weathered, wrinkled face of Mrs. Turner. 

_"Authorities suspect arson but have no leads at present. Locals have reported seeing a lone man garbed in a purple costume and say he carries a bow and a quiver of arrows. Several of the older residents say they can recall such a costumed character traveling with a circus some years back. The police are asking that anyone with information call..."_

Clint didn't wait to hear the rest of the sentence.

~*~

His first stop was Iowa and the burned out shell of a state home that had once been called an orphanage. That had once been home. People had set up a memorial for the lives lost in the fire, candles and stuffed animals and flowers piled high on the front steps with cards tucked into the cracks and crevices between the mound of gifts. Clint left his own memories there, a small medallion on a chain that was meant for a child's neck. A gift from Mrs. Turner when he and Barney had first arrived. Back when it had still been called an orphanage.

There was nothing left of the place that had been his childhood home for a time. Nothing but charred, blackened pieces of wood and piles of wet ashes. It was a depressing sight and it drove him away from the shattered remains of broken lives. His feet remembered the path, following it silently as he moved away from the house toward the field behind it. The playground equipment he remembered was gone, replaced with something more modern and made of heavy duty plastic. It had not been left untouched by the fire. The pieces closest to the house were warped and twisted from the heat of the flames.

Just like Barney's brain. 

The chain link fence was the same and it was easy to vault over it. There were trees edging the back of the property. While they still towered over Clint's head, they were much taller than they had been a lifetime ago. And the trunks were so thick that he couldn't get his arms around them. Once upon a time, they'd offered he and Barney an escape from the sorrow that came with living at the orphanage. Not that Mrs. Turner hadn't done her best with her charges. But there had always been so many kids that she'd never had time to be there for everyone. When Clint and Barney had needed to get away for a little while, they'd hopped the fence and found a quiet place in the trees.

His memory of this place was as strong as ever and it didn't take long to find the right tree. He'd sworn the thing was older than dirt back then and now, it was so big and broad that it had to be older than stone. For just a moment, ghosts trailed cold touches across his mind and he had to force himself to push them away lest he get lost in them. Instead, he focused on the note pinned to the tree. The knife that held it there was one he remembered from the circus.

Clint frowned and pulled the knife free, tucking it into his belt for safe keeping. He'd dispose of it later, far away from the home's burnt shell. There was very little to the note, not even a name on it to tell him who had written it. But he knew Barney's handwriting even after all these years. 

_Catch me if you can, hero. Don't worry. I'll make it easy for you and leave you a trail of crumbs to follow. All you have to do is pay attention._

Turning, he let his gaze drift back toward the charred remains of his childhood. He couldn't be upset by the loss of the house though there was a pain in his heart for those who had died here. They hadn't deserved that. Why had Barney picked this place? Why now? He hadn't seen his brother in years. So why had he decided to let Clint know he was still alive the way he had? 

Clint knew that the only way he'd get answers to his questions was to play Barney's game. Heaving a sigh, he started toward the edge of the trees and wondered what Barney's next crumb was going to be.

~*~*~*~*~

Phil hates being stuck back at base. He hasn't yet received clearance for field work and Fury is being a stickler about it. The wound left behind by Loki's scepter is healed up, nothing left behind but a shiny pink scar. He's been working hard at rebuilding the muscles he lost while recovering from his near death experience. He doesn't get tired anymore, nor does he get winded after anything strenuous. He's as fit as he was before the stabbing. But because Medical and Psych have yet to sign off on the paperwork returning him to full duty, he's stuck behind a desk.

Now is the worst time in the world to be a paper pusher in the truest sense of the word. 

He may be saddled with desk duty, but that doesn't mean that he isn't still in the game. His ear piece is filled with chatter as the Avengers go about seeking for their missing teammate. They'd mobilized the moment they'd learned that Clint was gone and being hunted. Phil had wanted to accompany them, run this search and rescue the same way he ran his missions. He'd been shot down by Fury fast and he'd been shot down hard. The director had gone so far as to threaten the Avengers with pain if they tried to sneak Phil off with them. So they'd gone after Clint and Phil had been left behind. But definitely not out of the loop. Natasha had slipped him a comm unit, compliments of Stark, then had left with a promise to bring Clint back to him.

So Phil listens in to all of their chatter, hoping that soon enough he'll hear Clint's voice. It is imperative that the Avengers find Clint and bring him home. Not just for Phil, though he's selfish enough to admit to himself that he wants Clint back in his arms where he belongs, but for his team and his friends. If the rest of his team fails in this task, Phil knows they'll never see Clint again. And things are still far too raw for Phil to have to process that.

Its been less than six months since Loki had come to Earth and made his attempt to take it over. Less than six months since the Chitauri had tried to destroy New York City. Things are not yet completely back to normal. Construction crews are practically working round the clock on repairs, but there is still more to do. There is always still more to do. 

Most of the accusations made against the Avengers are forgotten. Stark has good lawyers and he knows when and where and how to use them. It doesn't hurt that he and the rest of the Avengers have been seen helping with the clean up and repairs. And it certainly doesn't hurt that the public loves the six brave souls that saved the city from an alien invasion. There are still some who make noise about accountability now and again, but little comes out of it. But that isn't to say that all of the trouble has passed them by.

The World Security Council, displeased with the way Director Fury handled the Chitauri invasion, have made waves where it can. Phil knows that the WSC launched a nuclear strike in the hopes that it would destroy the Chitauri. He knows that Nick has evidence of their duplicitous nature. And, on some rational level, he understands that Nick is waiting for the best moment to use that evidence against them. But part of Phil has to wonder why he hasn't done that already. So much of what is presently happening could have been avoided if the WSC had been taken care of before now. 

And now, because Clint is missing without orders or any kind of notice, the WSC is using his absence to their advantage. Official statements have been made to the proper agencies regarding the traitor known as Clint Barton and they are hunting him. They've put together their own team and said team is tracking Clint down. 

If they find Clint before the Avengers do, Phil knows he'll never see Clint again. In any other situation, Phil might not worry much about it. But Clint doesn't know he's being hunted. And he certainly doesn't know that the WSC has sent their own Dark Avengers after him.

~*~*~*~*~

The insistent chirp of Phil's cell phone startled him out of the reports piled up on his desk. He hated desk work with a passion, but rules were rules and Fury was suddenly following them to the letter. He picked up the slim device and cast a glance at the screen. It was a text from Fury. Well, speak of the devil...

The push of a single button saw Phil up out of his chair and heading for the door. The text had contained only three words, but they were urgent ones. _My office. Now._ Phil was sure something was up. Nick generally didn't disturb Phil unless it was important. Usually, Phil was the one making calls and sending texts. Frowning, he wondered what could be so important that his boss would send a message that he had to have known would put Phil on edge. Fury was all about keeping Phil calm and relaxed until he was healed completely. The two of them had seen a lot of years as friends and Phil had never had the other man treat him like this before. Of course, Phil had never come so close to dying before.

When he reached Nick's office, it was to find the man himself wearing a grim look on his face. It was also to find that James Rhodes was waiting in Nick's office, wearing a very similar grim expression. Phil didn't even wait to be told to take the remaining seat. "Sir. Colonel Rhodes," Phil greeted them. 

"Colonel Rhodes," Fury nodded at the other man. 

"Thank you for seeing me, Director. And nice to see you up and around, Agent Coulson. I'm sorry to break into your busy schedules, but I have information that I think you need to hear," Rhodey told them. The tone of his voice suggested he was as unhappy as the expression he wore said he was.

"What kind of information?" Phil asked, mind already slipping into mission briefing mode. 

"I had a call not that long ago. From the World Security Council. They're looking for their own Iron Man and I was first on their list."

"What for?" A glance at the man behind the desk told Phil that Nick was not surprised by what he was hearing. 

"They're putting together their own team of Avengers. They've already got a mission lined up for the team." 

Phil shot a searching look toward Fury. The other man's poker face was as stony as they got. Phil knew there was no reading that look unless Nick wanted you to read it. Between the looks both men were wearing and the heavy anger in Rhodey's words, Phil was starting to get a really bad feeling about what was going on. He felt the tension pull his shoulders tight, felt it straighten his spine until it felt as if he'd never relax again. "What's the mission?" 

"Hunt down and bring in Clint Barton." When Phil only stared in disbelief, Rhodey took it as his cue to continue. "There have been a few news reports lately that are troubling. Things that have happened involving someone using a bow and arrows. Reports of a man wearing a purple suit and cowl. People are getting hurt. And killed. The WSC is convinced that its Barton, that he's still under Loki's control and he's acting on Loki's orders. The path of destruction is, as far as they're concerned, a clear indication that he's working on creating panic and disorder for Loki's return."

"Agent Barton is not under Loki's control," Phil returned pointedly. If there was a hint of anything improper in his tone, no one said anything.

"The WSC seems to think so. They've put a bounty on his head. They want him to pay for his crimes. And they're putting together a team that they think can get the job done." 

Phil turned to look at Nick. He already had his phone in hand. "Let's make sure that we find him first."

~*~

The Avengers, what was left of the them, were waiting for Phil, Nick, and Rhodey when they stepped off the elevator. Stark looked surprised to see his old friend and might have made some comment about it, but apparently the man knew how to read faces well enough to see that there was something very wrong. Anything he had to say, he kept to himself. "Thank you all for meeting us here on such short notice," Nick told them before anyone could start asking questions. "People, we have a situation."

"A situation?" Natasha asked, a faint edge to her voice that few people would actually catch. Of all the Avengers, she knew Fury best and knew how to read the man's moods. She was well aware that something bad was happening. "What kind of situation?"

Nick's gaze flicked to Rhodey, drawing all other eyes in the room to where he stood.

"Clint is wanted by the WSC for war crimes. They've put together their own team of Avengers to hunt him down and bring him in." Rhodey's announcement left them all looking slightly confused. Obviously, no one had been paying attention to the news lately. Or their teammate. "You do realize that he isn't here, right? That he's out on some cross country thing that's attracting nationwide media attention."

The question was met with several blank looks. Phil held on to a sigh and shifted his attention to the ceiling.

"Jarvis, when did Agent Barton leave the tower?" he asked Stark's AI. Five living, breathing human beings occupying the same space and it was the voice of a computer program that Phil went to for information. He wasn't even going to begin to consider everything that was wrong with that situation.

"Agent Barton left the tower quite suddenly three days ago, Agent Coulson," Jarvis replied politely. Maybe he was imagining the hint of censure in the AI's voice. Then again, based on the looks everyone was giving him, maybe he wasn't. 

Fury made a very disgusted noise. "Three days and no one thought it was odd?" he asked. Rogers shifted uncomfortably. Natasha's expression flat-lined into nothing so quickly that Phil knew she was mad at herself for not noticing. "Do you have any idea what prompted him to leave so quickly, Jarvis?" Nick asked, gaze tight on the rest of Clint's team. 

"I believe it had something to do with a news item that caught his attention, Director Fury." Stark opened his mouth almost before Jarvis finished speaking, only to find himself cut off by the AI as an image sprang to life in mid air only a few feet from them. "The news article Agent Barton was watching right before he left, sir."

It wasn't a very long report, lasting less than five minutes. By the end, Phil could see that Natasha was flat out frowning, which wasn't a good sign. The Avengers had been together for a short time and Phil didn't think any of them would know Clint's history the way Phil and Natasha did. They understood the importance of that state home burning down. And they understood the importance of a masked figure in purple. But he wasn't sure that the others did. "Jarvis, I want to know--"

"The state home that burned down is the same home where Agent Barton and his older brother spent some of their youth after the deaths of their parents," Jarvis informed them, his tone suggesting he was ten miles ahead of Stark and quite proud of himself for it. "I've collected all available news data and determined that the masked figure is Charles Barton, also called Trickshot. You would know him as Barney." 

"Clint's brother?" Stark asked. Phil was not surprised. He should have realized that the man would put his genius brain and his nosey nature to the task of discovering everything there was to know about his new teammates. Stark's brain was obviously thinking something because he had a look in his eye that Phil had seen before. A thousand thoughts were moving through his eyes and his hands flew on a holographic keyboard that had just suddenly appeared before him. Whatever Stark was thinking, he kept it to himself for all of half a minute. "Jarvis, what did Clint take with him when he left?" 

"Very little, sir. A small bag of clothing and his bow."

Almost as soon as Jarvis finished speaking, a stream of information was flowing across the holographic screen. It was almost too fast to read, but Phil caught sight of a few files that definitely belonged to the WSC. "It seems like our pals at the World Security Council are still pissed that Fury did what he wanted during the Chitauri invasion and thereby saved New York City and all the world. So, since Clint was under Loki's spell for a while and is now nowhere near anyone who will cover his ass, they're going after him." 

"Colonel Rhodes said something about a team," Rogers prodded. He apparently had no problems with Tony's methods at the moment. Phil really didn't, either. 

"Let me see here," Stark said, his voice suggesting he wasn't fully paying attention. His fingers tapped a few more keys and more information popped up on the screen. He shook his head. "Looks like they've got their own super secret boy band happening. And they're hiring only the very worst." A couple taps of his fingers and pictures started popping up. Phil recognized Mac Gargan's face, as well as the one behind Bullseye's mask. The third one was something of a surprise. Yelena Belova, the second Black Widow, was part of the WSC's team. The rest of it seemed to be made up of second string, no-name villains. They weren't really important in the grand scheme of things. Those first three, though. They were very important.

Natasha muttered a curse in Russian, letting Phil know exactly what she thought of that. "Our orders, sir?" she asked Fury.

"Get to Agent Barton first. Bring him home. Deal with this team." That was all Nick said. Phil figured that meant they could decide just what he meant by it on their own. The Avengers didn't answer to S.H.I.E.L.D. or Nick Fury. Which meant he hadn't officially sanctioned this mission. Which meant they could deal with the other team however they saw fit. 

"Jarvis, I want every last detail about Barton's activities since he left. And I want a map of the route he was taking," Stark ordered. 

"All of the information you need to find Agent Barton has already been uploaded to the suit, sir. I've taken the liberty to send the same information to the jet for the rest of the team," Jarvis replied with a hint of something in his voice. Phil strongly suspected that Jarvis saw himself as a mother hen to all of the people staying in the tower. He wanted Clint back as much as everyone else.

Rogers gave a nod to Phil, Nick, and Rhodey before turning his attention to his team. "Wheels up in five minutes. Grab your gear and get a move on." Stark, Natasha, and Banner all nodded their heads before heading off to do what they needed to do. For a moment, it looked as if Rogers was going to do the same. But he finally turned back to the three of them and glanced at Rhodey. "Colonel Rhodes, we'd be more than happy to have you with us on this mission." 

Rhodey gave a smile. "Captain, it would be my pleasure."

~*~*~*~*~

The blackness pulls back to make way for pain. Pain is nothing new to him. He's been hurt before, has dealt with pain before. Pain means you're still alive. And, for him, pain means he still has a chance to see Phil. The relief that comes with that thought is almost enough to see him giving himself over to the lurking shadows. There is pleasant softness beneath him and a dullness spreading through his veins that suggests he's being pumped full of drugs. Allowing himself to slip under would be simple and easy.

But there's a soft voice close by, a voice that is speaking very lowly as if the speaker is afraid of disturbing him. Its easy to recognize Natasha's husky tones, the slow and steady pace of each word she says. He lets those words soothe him, allows them to carry him along on the river of pain killers flooding his system. He allows his mind to wander.

He knows he's lucky to be alive. Even though he's missed the important parts, Natasha's presence proves to him that his team is responsible for getting him out of a desperate situation. He also knows that his injuries are severe enough to require medical attention. There will be a new scar from his run in with his brother. There will be questions and answers. There will probably be mandatory psych evals and medically mandated down time. He knows all this. But these things are the least of his worries. His worries are centered on his team and his lover. He wonders what he will see on their faces when next he looks upon them.

He wonders if he will find understanding or disappointment. 

A gentle hand touches his face, drawing his attention away from his own thoughts to find that Natasha is watching him closely. There is worry and relief on her face. There is also tightly leashed rage. She says nothing at first, simply slides her hand up so that she can stroke her fingers through his hair. The touch is soothing and tender. Clint sighs and lets his eyes fall closed. "Rest easy, Clint. You're safe now." There is something in her words that triggers a half-hidden memory, but its gone before he can even begin to unravel it. 

"Thanks, Tasha," he whispers, voice hoarse and rough. His throat is parched and he could use a drink of water. Even before he can put the thought into words, Natasha's holding a bottle of water near his head. There is a bendy straw slipped into it so that he can drink without lifting his head. The water is cool and slides down his throat so smoothly, washing away the parched feeling for a moment or two. "How?"

"We'll talk about it later, Clint. Just rest. We're going to be at the hospital soon." 

He nods, eyes falling closed as he relaxes back into the softness beneath him. The temporary reprieve he's had from the hold of the pain killers is over with and he can feel himself slipping back into the shadows. There will be consequences but he knows that those will come later, when he's healed from his wounds. He can deal with them. He'll have to deal with them. He isn't afraid to own up to his actions. 

Thoughts peter out as the drugs steal his mind, cutting him off from sensations and sounds until he's floating in darkness and warmth. There is a gentle pressure against his hand as Natasha's fingers curl around his and he has time to recognize the touch of her skin to his own. Then even that minor sensation is gone and so is Clint.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint sighed as he surveyed the ruins Barney had left in his wake. Another fire. More bodies. His brother was escalating, daring Clint to catch him. Laughing in Clint's face. Mocking him. Jesus fuck, it had to end.

The townspeople were all gathered before the burnt out ruin of what had once been a church. The town's only church. Naturally there'd been reports all over the local news and Clint had patched into the local sheriff's dispatch frequency. He knew that there had been three corpses found in the church. Preliminary identifications suggested they were the pastor, the pastor's wife, and a woman who volunteered at the church as the pianist and choir teacher. All three of them were known to the community and the townspeople's grief was a tangible thing. 

He'd booked a room a few towns over, in a larger area where the presence of a stranger wouldn't draw too much attention. It was dangerous for him to be here because he knew that the police had a general description, which was general enough to include him if they laid eyes on him. He probably shouldn't have come to the scene of Barney's crime, but he hadn't been able to help himself. He wanted to offer the dead the apologies they deserved for being caught between two feuding brothers who hadn't seen each other in years. But there was no way to do so and, even if there was, it felt like it would be utterly inadequate. These people hadn't deserved this. Their only crime was being unfortunate enough to have been a place Clint had taken a fancy to in his youth. 

Not much in the tiny town had changed since he'd last been there. That had been far too many years ago, but he could recall it as if it was yesterday. The carnival had stopped here because there was plenty of room for all of the tents and trailers and games. Clint had been young, hadn't started learning his way with a bow, so he'd been little more than poorly paid help. But there had been a boy, named Jerry, who had come to the circus with his family that had befriended Clint. The two of them had found a way to hang out with one another the entire time Carson's had been in town. 

Clint could remember telling the boy that having him around was like having another brother. And it had honestly felt like it during their short stay. Barney had already started pulling away from Clint by that point, leaving Clint to feel as if he'd been drifting along aimlessly. Jerry's friendship had been a welcome distraction. At least until they'd pulled up the tent posts and headed on down the road. If he'd thought Barney had been distant before... 

The memories came to a screeching halt as the full implication of what Barney had done here hit him. A young boy would prefer Jerry to his full name. But as an adult, he might go by his full name. And if he happened to grow up to be a pillar of his community, he might come to be called Pastor Jerome. Shit. Why hadn't Clint seen it before? 

Anger swept through him, made his motions abrupt as he turned and headed back toward his rental. He'd always known, deep down, that Barney was far too much like their old man. But he'd never thought that Barney's problems with him would manifest like this. It was one thing for Barney to want to kill his own brother. It was another thing entirely for Barney to try and destroy his brother by going after all of the things that had made him smile back in that other life. 

For a moment, Clint's mind was filled with images of Phil and Bobbi and everyone else he'd ever had a relationship with during his adult life. There was a second or two of deep worry, but that slid away as he recalled just how capable his ex-wife was of defending herself. How absolutely deadly Natasha was. How dangerous Phil could be. There were advantages to dating superheroes and secret agents. 

Some of the tension eased from his shoulders as he picked up his pace. It was more important than ever that he find Barney and put an end to this. Before his brother could think of attacking Clint's present. Maybe he could even save what was left of his past. 

"Damn, little brother, I never thought you'd catch up to me." Barney's voice was filled with sadistic amusement. It was more than enough to pull Clint's thoughts away from his loved ones. His brother was leaning up against Clint's rental as if he didn't have a care in the world. It would have been the perfect time to put an end to this and put an arrow through Barney's head. Except his bow and his custom made arrows were locked away in his motel room. And he hadn't even bothered to bring his sidearm. 

"Your faith in my intelligence is, as always, completely underwhelming," Clint replied with little inflection in his voice. Barney watched him for a few moments, then shook his head and gave him a knowing smirk. 

"Damn. And here I thought you'd always be a hot-head. But you're absolutely chill, aren't you?" 

"Actually, I'm seething with rage. But I've learned a few things over the years. And I've never much cared for the idea that I'd end up being as much of a raging dick as our old man." His tone of voice made it clear that he felt his brother was enough of a raging dick for the both of them. Barney's cocky grin faltered, but didn't fade completely. 

"Like the gifts I've been leaving for you?" he asked instead. 

"Not particularly. Though I'm starting to see just how fucking twisted your head is, brother. A pastor? A man of the church? What the hell has gotten into you?" 

"You told that boy once that he was like a brother to you. That he was better than your own brother. You disrespected me, Clint." As if that was all the explanation Barney needed. As if that justified taking the life of a man who had devoted himself to Christian values, God, and his family.

"Wonder where I learned that from, Barney," Clint shot back. Barney's mouth went tight with anger, letting Clint know that he'd struck a nerve. "Give up this madness and turn yourself in." 

"Oh, no, baby brother. I'm not done with you yet. The game is still on. I just wanted to see how you liked my latest gift to you." One corner of his brother's mouth curled up into a sly grin that reminded Clint far too much of the looks his father wore when he was getting ready to beat one of them. "And if you think this one was sick, you're going to love what I've got in store for you next." 

Clint looked him up and down for a few seconds, then made a scoffing sound. "Maybe I should put you down here and now and finish this thing." 

Barney pushed away from the car and closed the distance between himself and Clint. When his brother stood before him, they stared one another in the eye. "You haven't got the heart for it, little brother. You've never had the stomach for killing and death. Great big hero that you are. So you won't put me down here and now. You'll let this play out to the very end like a good little brother should. And then you'll see just how much you can lose. Right to the bitter fucking sweet end. And what an end its going to be, Clint. What an end. You'll never be the same again. That's a god damn promise." 

Barney turned and swaggered away from him without another word. Clint felt a chill shudder its way down his spine. He was sure he wasn't going to like what Barney had planned. 

Yeah. He was going to put Barney down. Even if it was the last thing he ever did.

~*~

Barney's fist came flying toward him and Clint barely had any time to dodge the blow. He felt the swing pass by him, a slight hint of a breeze brushing his face. His hands came up, took hold of Barney's arm and gripped it tight, giving Clint the opportunity to drive his shoulder into Barney's gut. Air left his brother's lungs in a great rush, his limbs turning to jelly just long enough for Clint to throw Barney over his shoulder. The other man hit the ground hard and lay stunned for a second or two. Long enough to give Clint a chance to dive for his bow.

He'd just curled his fingers around the frame when Barney's hands curled around his ankle and pulled him back. His grip held and the bow came with him, swinging toward Barney's head as Clint kicked at the other man while flipping over at the same time. Barney let go and jumped back, avoiding taking a bow to the face. His actions gave Clint time to come to his feet and make ready for the next attack. 

Clint had barely set his feet when Barney rushed him again. The exchange was fast and brutal, his brother using fists and feet to rain down blow after blow. Clint dodged some, stopped others. Some of the hits and kicks made contact and left him with dull aches that would be bruises in a few hours. It reminded him so much of how his father used to beat them. Clint hadn't been able to defend himself then. He was older and stronger now. He wasn't going to let anyone push him around ever again. Not his brother and not the ghost of his father. 

He called to mind the skills Natasha had taught him when they'd sparred together, put the most damaging ones to use. Fists flew, landing on both sides with meaty thumps that would leave behind painful reminders of this fight. There were kicks that landed against thighs or ribs or even the side of heads. Yes, it was mean and dirty. But Barney didn't care about playing fair. And Clint was in this to win.

It was a lucky shot that took him down. Maybe he'd gotten too cocky in his own abilities. Maybe he'd miscalculated the force behind one of his punches. Maybe he'd underestimated his brother. Maybe Barney was just playing with him. Clint was sure he had the whole thing wrapped up and in the bag because he had Barney on the floor on his back. All he had to do was deliver the blow that would render Barney unconscious. But before he could manage it, Barney's feet tangled in his legs and Clint found himself face down on the floor. 

It was a scramble to roll away from Barney before he could slam a foot down on the back of Clint's head. It took even longer to gain his feet. Barney was there to meet him with a fist, the sharp edges of his knuckles slamming Clint's cheek against his teeth. He danced away from his brother and spat blood. Barney grinned at him and advanced. Clint saw the intention in his brother's eyes and made to block the blow he was about to launch. Except Barney faked him out and put a boot in his gut. 

The wind left him bent at the waist and gasping for air. A fist caught him on the side of the head and sent him reeling. Barney's foot took him in the stomach again, then stomped down on his back and sent him to the floor another time. It took a few moments to collect himself enough to move. Pain shot along every nerve ending when he rolled onto his back. Doing so showed him that Barney was standing across the room from him, bow in hand and arrow at the ready. Clint knew just by looking at it that the arrow would skewer him through the heart. 

Time slowed to a crawl as he ran the scenario through his head. Calculations and trajectories and probabilities slid through his grey matter in the space of a heartbeat. Taking as much of a breath as he was able, he threw himself to his feet and dove toward his own bow. His fingers were curling around the arm when pain exploded in his thigh. He found an arrow, fitted it to the string, fired. 

And that was exactly when all hell broke loose.

~*~*~*~*~

The comm unit in his ear gives a soft click, letting him know that someone has switched to the private channel. The press of a finger switches it over and Phil can hear the line humming. He can also hear the steady in and out of breath very faintly. He waits for the other person to speak. _"We've got him, Coulson. We've got him and he's alive."_

There is something in Natasha's voice that leaves him frowning. Most people think that she has her emotions buried so deeply that she never shows them. But Natasha isn't like most people. Her emotions show in her voice. In the word choices she makes. In the way she delivers a statement. "But?" Phil prompts because he knows there's more to it than that. 

"But he's been beaten up pretty badly. There are likely some cracked ribs. Possibly one or two that have been broken. Bruises. And there's a wound in his thigh. It looks bad. It bled a lot." He can tell by her tone of voice that she thinks the wound is not just bad, but very bad.

"His brother?" Phil asks, because he can't not ask that question.

"We have him in custody." There is something dark and rich in her voice. Anticipation. Phil knows that Barney Barton will not enjoy his encounter with Natasha. Phil decides to ignore that. 

"And the World Security Council's team?" He doesn't need to ask. He listened in on the fight when it went down. He knows what happened. But he still wants to hear it. There is a part of him that shares that dark, rich anticipation with Natasha. There is a part of him that would like nothing more than to give Barney Barton something with which to remember this mistake.

There is a pause, then she speaks. There is disgust in her tone. "Yelena managed to slip away in the chaos." 

"What about Bullseye? Venom?" Phil questions. He knows that Natasha takes it as a personal affront that Yelena managed to get away from her. He also knows that this means there will maybe come a time when Natasha disappears for a few days in order to deal with Yelena. 

"They're being escorted back to base." 

Phil makes no comment to that. No doubt Fury will deal with Bullseye and Venom. Not that Phil thinks Nick will get far with either one of them. Not without the help of some of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s gadgets, that is. Maybe he'll request the right to observe their interrogations. 

None of that is important right now. Sighing, Phil puts thoughts of villains from his mind and turns toward the things that have been plaguing him since the meeting with Colonel Rhodes. Clint and his brother. That can't mean anything good. And Barney showing up in Clint's life couldn't have come at a worse time. It has taken some months for Phil to convince Clint that he isn't at fault for what happened while under Loki's control. It has taken him even longer to make Clint realize that he isn't to blame for what happened to Phil. "What's this going to do to him, Natasha?" 

She sighs, a soft sound that most people would miss. Phil knows her almost as well as Clint does, so he is well aware of her tells and signs. That single sound tells him she's worried. "I honestly don't know. Clint's weakness has always been his family. Both blood and the one he made for himself. And you know he likes to see the good in people. This is his brother we're talking about. I think he's going to feel betrayed. In a very big way. Barney was trying to kill him."

Its Phil's turn to sigh this time. He drags a hand over his face as he looks for the good in the situation. It doesn't matter that he knows there is nothing good to find there. He still looks. There is so much Phil wishes he could change for Clint, things he wishes he could fix. But he knows that those things are what make Clint the man he is today. Changing them, if at all possible, would mean a different Clint. The only thing he can do is be there for Clint.

"Phil," Natasha says, her voice the softest it ever gets. It is a voice she usually only uses with those she cares for the deepest. "You'll get through this. You both will." There is a whisper of sound, faint and distant. "I'm signing off now, Coulson."

The comm unit buzzes in his ear to let him know that the connection has been severed. Phil sighs and tugs the piece free and sets it on his desk. Now would be a perfect time to go let Director Fury what he knows.

~*~*~*~*~

The Avengers, along with Colonel Rhodes, had gone to each of the crime scenes. Phil knew it was to look for any clues left behind by Barney or Clint. No doubt they'd spoken with the local authorities in each town. Not that it had been necessary. S.H.I.E.L.D. computer techs were as capable of pulling that information as Stark was, but it was good manners to go in and ask for information instead of taking it. Maintaining good will with the local police was in everyone's best interests.

The information they'd gotten had been difficult to look at. Barney had left bodies in his wake, a few here and a few there. It hadn't taken Phil long to see the pattern in the deaths, either. At first, he'd thought that the home in Iowa had been a way to catch Clint's attention and draw him out. But that notion hadn't lasted long and soon Phil had been cross checking the trail of bodies with Carson's routes when Barney and Clint had been part of the circus. Each body that Barney had left behind had been someone important in Clint's young life. 

All told, Barney had taken the lives of more than twenty people. If the World Security Council got their hands on Clint, they'd lay the blame for all the deaths at his feet. And if that happened, there wasn't a soul in the world who would be able to help him. Not even Stark and his high powered lawyers would be able to do anything for Clint if the World Security Council got to him first. Which was why it was so important that the Avengers get to him first. 

Barney's trail of destruction had meandered around the country. Most of his crimes were centered in the middle part of the country. There was a great deal of property destroyed along the way. And at least one body at every scene. Phil knew, probably better than anyone with exception of Natasha, that these crimes would take their toll on Clint. Each fire and each death dropped a layer of guilt upon Clint's shoulders. And that guilt would drag him down until there was nothing for him to do but drown beneath it. Phil would do anything he could to keep that from happening. 

Some of the deaths made perfect sense. The woman who ran the state home had been at the orphanage when Clint and Barney had arrived. She'd been a good friend to Clint during his stay and a few notes written shortly after the boys had run away suggested that the woman had been as fond of Clint as he had of her. She'd certainly missed him if her notes were anything to go by.

The one Phil was having a hard time with was the death of a pastor and two other women. So far, he hadn't been able to make a connection between any one of them and Clint. And it seemed like a waste to just arbitrarily murder a man of the cloth. He couldn't decide if Barney was crafty as hell or just completely insane. Each stop the team made on the hunt for Clint only made him wonder more.

He was honestly leaning toward a little of both. 

Sighing, Phil shifted his focus back to the notes from the last crime scene and tried to ignore the fact that small children had been killed. There was nothing to suggest where Barney had headed after his stop in Kansas. Phil needed to find some inkling of a clue, something that would tell him where to send Clint's team. They were running out of time. Every minute away from the safety of the Avengers put Clint in jeopardy. Every crime Barney committed drew the World Security Council's team closer to finding Clint. At best, they'd take him into custody and turn him over to their bosses. At worst... 

Phil didn't want to think about at worst. He'd almost lost Clint once. He was not going to lose him again.

~*~

Since he was still riding a desk, Phil had been left behind at headquarters. He was connected to the Avengers and their investigation through Stark tech that was really fantastic. The comm unit Tony had handed him before the team had left was much better than those currently being used by S.H.I.E.L.D. It allowed him to not only listen in to each member of the team when they spoke but it also allowed him to hear what the people they were speaking to had to say in response. And there was a tablet that showed the events in real time. Phil suspected it was tied in to Stark's Iron Man suit based on the view he got. The tablet Stark had given him had come loaded with Jarvis, so Phil had the AI at his disposal. It was almost as good as being there. Any other time, that would have been a good thing.

Stark spun and dove, the picture spiraling crazily as he did so. Phil was left feeling slightly like he was going to vomit, but he shoved the feeling aside when he heard the explosion sound somewhere behind Stark's Iron Man suit. The image leveled out to show the ground below. Stark wasn't very high up, giving Phil a good view of Natasha locked in battle with Yelena Belova. Yelena threw a fist toward Natasha's face, knuckles aimed at her nose, but the other woman ducked under and drove forward. She collided with her opponent and they both hit the ground. 

A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground a few feet away from the two women, driving several plainly dressed men back. Then Thor was on the ground, taking up position between Natasha and the small army of hired help that the World Security Council had hired. _"Incapacitate them! We're taking them back with us."_ Cap's voice cut across the comm unit, prompting Tony's head to turn and locate Captain America. 

Phil was not surprised to find Cap in the middle of a battle with several henchmen, fists and shield flying. There seemed to be quite a few of the henchmen, making Phil wonder just how dangerous the idiots at the World Security Council considered Clint to be. Then again, give him enough weapons and ammunition and he could put down an entire platoon on his own. The last Phil saw of Cap was when the man's fist met the jaw of one of the henchmen, sending the man sprawling in the dirt. Then a loud roar caught Stark's attention and the man's focus shifted again.

Hulk was in a full green rage, giant hands reaching for Venom as the two squared off. Stark had a few seconds to watch as Hulk's fingers curled around Venom's tongue. Big Green yanked and Venom went flying. The tree he slammed into gave a loud crack. Second later, Venom was launching himself at Hulk's back. Phil could clearly see the symbiote was trying to shift away from Gargan and attach itself to Hulk. No doubt all that rage was far too enticing for it. But even as it searched for purchase, Hulk clawed at it with his big hands and roared out his disapproval. That roar was loud enough to see the symbiote falling away. The shrieks it gave off were high-pitched. Venom dropped to the ground and writhed in pain.

_"Keep roaring at it, Hulk! The noise hurts it! Keep that son of a bitch on his back!"_ Stark instructed. Hulk gave Iron Man a brief smile before turning his attention back to Venom. The second he moved, Hulk roared again.

An explosion saw Stark turning yet again. When the dizzying spin ended, his focus was centered on Rhodey. Rhodey was on the ground, facing off with Bullseye. Several nearby trees were damaged and splintered. Some had been destroyed. There were a few patches of scorched earth at both men's feet. Bullseye gave a maniacal laugh and fired off an arrow. A blast from Rhodey's repulsor destroyed it and the one that came right behind it. Despite the superior fire power of the suit, Bullseye had Rhodey pinned. _"Need some help, buddy?"_ Stark asked the other man. 

_"Nah. I got this,"_ Rhodey replied. A second later, an arrow with an explosive head detonated close to Rhodey and threw him off his feet. Before he could even lever himself back up, Bullseye was standing over him, arrow aimed at the heart of the suit. Even Phil could see that it would do damage. _"On second thought..."_

Even before Rhodey could finish the sentence, Tony was in motion. The scenery around him became a sickening blur as he launched himself toward Bullseye. A second later, Stark had tackled Bullseye to the ground and pinned him with the weight of his suit. 

_"Thor! I want you to find Hawkeye and get him to safety! Avengers, its time to end this fight!"_ Roger's voice carried over the comm unit. The camera cut up just in time to see Thor land near a small cabin, a single body laying in front of the open door, and duck inside. Then he was back out a moment later carrying a familiar form and the two of them took to the skies. The rest of the fight faded into the background as relief rushed through Phil. He sagged in his seat and put his head in his hands. 

Clint was safe. He was coming home.

~*~*~*~*~

Clint comes around with a dry throat and a cottony mind. It tells him that he's on the good drugs, the kind that he hates because they leave him fuzzy and sluggish. Incapable of handling a weapon if the need arises. But the steady beeping drone that fills his ear, combined with that cottony feel, tells him he's in a hospital. For a few moments, he lays with his eyes closed, trying to decide if he wants to really wake up or not. A subtle shift across the room produces a soft sound that tells him someone is in the room with him. He decides to spare them the silence and pries his eyes open.

The room is the same bland that you find in any hospital you're in, with a plain but serviceable paint color on the walls and a television mounted on an arm up near the ceiling. The blinds on the window are opened slightly, allowing bright light to filter into the room and slant across the boring linoleum floor. The blanket covering his legs is just shy of being tan and the bed is set so that he's just barely sitting up. The slight incline to the mattress allows him to glance around the room without straining his neck. 

The bedside table has a telephone on it, along with a big vase that is filled with a vast array of flowers. They're in various shades of red and blue and gold and purple and they give off a faint hint of scent. Dark and light greens help fill the vase, along with tiny flowers in white and pink and blue. It is large and screams of money. Clint figures it is something Pepper ordered and put Tony's name on. A group of shiny balloons in the corner suggest Clint 'Get Well Soon!' in large, loud letters. No doubt something from Thor. 

There is a couch near the windows, long enough for someone to nap on if they choose. At the moment, however, there are papers and files scattered all over it. The adjustable table that is provided for patients off of which to eat their meals or do puzzles has been pulled over in front of the couch to serve as Phil's make-shift work desk. Despite giving the appearance of being deeply involved in his work, Phil's head comes up only moments after Clint looks at him. The man is wearing his typical look of utter blandness, but Clint has known Phil long enough to see the worry lingering in Phil's gaze. "Welcome back, Clint." 

Clint inwardly cringes at the statement. It is equal parts honest joy and deep disappointment. Clint decides to confront the disappointment head on and get it out of the way. "How bad did I fuck up?" 

Phil stares a moment, as if he doesn't expect Clint to willingly talk about it, then sighs and puts his paperwork aside. Clint watches as he stands and stretches, his actions as fluid and easy as ever, before making his way to the chair settled beside Clint's hospital bed. Phil settles into it with less grace than Clint's seen since right after New York and pins him with an unreadable look. "The World Security Council sent a team after you, Clint. If not for Colonel Rhodes, you'd be in their custody right now." 

A few vague, watery memories prod at him, flashes of familiar faces before things go dark. Clint merely looks at Phil with an expression that says he should go ahead and explain. Phil leans forward to put his elbows on his knees and Clint can see faint smudges of exhaustion lurking under Phil's eyes. "When the news started reporting deaths and fires that might or might not be connected to a mystery man using a bow and arrow, the World Security Council decided that you were still under Loki's control and had gone rogue. They assembled their own team to deal with you. They offered Colonel Rhodes a position on that team. He politely turned them down, then came to Director Fury and I to tell us about it." 

"I see," Clint replies, his mind already turning over the information he's been given. There's obviously more to the story, things Phil hasn't told him yet. So he remains silent and gives Phil a nod to go ahead. 

"Naturally, Director Fury suggested that your team, who had no clue you'd left, go after you and retrieve you before the World Security Council's team could achieve that objective." Phil stops long enough to pick up the glass of water sitting beside the vase of flowers and hand it to Clint. For a moment or two, his fingers are clumsy and he has to make several attempts before he can successfully take hold of the cup. Briefly, his fingers brush against Phil's and warmth tingles under them even after the contact is broken. When Clint has hold of the glass, Phil finds the controls and elevates the bed just a little more. "The Avengers, and Colonel Rhodes, followed the trail Barney left for you." 

"And Barney?" Clint tries to keep the faint hint of hope from his voice. For good or for bad, Barney is still his brother. The only blood Clint has left.

"He's in custody. And he will answer for his crimes." There is an edge to Phil's words that Clint doesn't expect to hear, so it takes him a minute or two to process and fully understand. When he realizes, he shakes his head and gives Phil a faint smile. 

"Probably worse than I had in mind for him," he replies. Phil shoots him a look of curiosity, but Clint keeps what he had planned to do to his brother to himself. Some things should be kept in the family. "What about the others?" 

"We have most of the members of the World Security Council's team in custody, as well." There is a note to Phil's voice that suggests there are plans for the lot of them and they are plans that he doesn't plan on sharing. Clint lets it go because, really, it isn't important. What is important is that he and Phil are together again. He shifts the glass to the other hand and uses his now freed one to take hold of Phil's hand. A smile blossoms on his face when Phil's fingers tighten down on his own. "Don't ever run off without telling someone where you're going again. You scared the life out of me." 

Clint sighs, a soft sound of loss and sorrow and resignation. "I'm sorry, Phil. It wasn't my intention to upset you or anyone else. But it was my brother. He was trying to draw me out. I had to go. Because he's my problem." 

Phil doesn't say anything for a long time and Clint can see that he's turning over what he's just been told. A faint tightening at the corners of his mouth suggest that Phil wants to smack him for his idiocy. Clint isn't sure he can blame Phil for that. Its something he's grown accustomed to over the years they've been together. "You left yourself open to the World Security Council with that stupid stunt, Clint. Had they not been stupid and called Rhodey..." 

Clint nods. "I know, Phil. I get that. But he was killing people from my past. Not his past. My past. I felt it was my duty to stop him. He's still my brother, no matter what's gone between us before now." 

"He set you up to take the fall for his crimes, Clint," Phil replies. There is a well earned note of chastisement in his words. Clint can see that now. Now that he's no longer running on adrenaline, anger, and fear, he can see that Barney was trying to frame him. They're of a similar height and build that no one would know the difference with Barney wearing a cowl. Phil's hand reaches out and touches Clint's cheek, bringing his attention back to the other man. "Don't ever go off without back up again, Clint. I can't handle not knowing your safe. Not after Loki." 

Both Phil's tone of voice and the expression on his face soften with the last of his words. Clint feels that peculiar pang in the region of his heart that he knows means he hates seeing Phil like this. Afraid and open and vulnerable. He hates being the person to make Phil look like that. He gives a nod of his head. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you again," he whispers in return. 

"You lost a lot of blood," Phil tells him. His hand settles on Clint's thigh, well away from where he knows there is a wound. His thumb strokes an arc against the swell of Clint's leg. Clint can see that he's finally allowing himself to fall apart. The stoic face and the tense set of his shoulders are crumbling away into the Phil very few others see. "I don't want to lose you, Clint. I almost lost you once. I can't do that again. You have to promise me, Clint. Promise me."

"I'll always have back up, Phil. Always. Because I always want to come home to you," Clint promises softly. His hand finds Phil's again, takes hold of it and squeezes it tight. Phil squeezes back. Clint knows that the conversation is over, that they won't speak of it again unless the need arises. He's okay with that. They've never been extremely emotive and they rarely ever admit to their feelings. But Clint knows that the words Phil won't say aloud are there between the ones he does. Clint's the same. 

They'll likely never ever use those three little words, but they tell each other they love one another every day. In other words. And in deeds. In a hundred ways. Clint sighs and basks in the warmth of Phil's hand in his. That one simple gesture conveys everything they'll never speak out loud. And Clint's just fine with that.

~*~*~*~*~

"What is this, Phil?" Clint whispers softly, his alert gaze moving around him rapidly.

Phil allows himself a smile. "Patience, Clint. You'll see soon enough. Almost before the words fade, the screens on the other side of the room flicker to life to show a group of faceless people. Phil manages to touch Clint's hand with his own, then stills and allows Fury to take center stage.

The room is small enough to feel crowded even though there are only four people standing in it. With the shadowed faces watching them from the screens on the other side of the room, it feels down right claustrophobic. Director Fury stands slightly in front of them, his attention focused on the shadowy faces. Maria is on his left while Phil and Clint stand silently to his right. "Why did you call this meeting, Director Fury?" a male voice asks, a touch of heat laced into it. 

Before Fury can answer, one of the heads turns toward the spot where Clint stands. The hair style suggests its a woman. When she speaks, she has a crisp accent running through her words. "Why is Clint Barton still at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters? He's a wanted criminal and should be turned over to us at once." 

"Agent Barton is the reason I called this little impromptu meeting together," Nick drawls slowly. He puts a hint of smugness into his voice that the people on the other side of the screen are sure to hear. "Before you say anything else, allow me to remind you that Agent Barton is an Avenger and helped save the world from the Chitauri invasion." 

"Have you forgotten, Director Fury, that Agent Barton was involved with the war criminal Loki? Under Loki's command, Agent Barton destroyed property worth thousands of dollars and killed people." The man leaves unspoken the fact that he believes Clint should pay for his crimes. 

"Under Loki's control. The Council seems to have forgotten that Agent Barton was taken prisoner and used as a weapon through mind control. I'm just going to remind you of that here and now so there's no further confusion." Nick pauses a moment to let that sink in. 

"So you're saying that the killing spree he recently engaged in was done so under his own power?" one of the faces asks and Phil can just hear the glee in his voice. For once in his life, Phil finds it difficult to maintain his bland expression because he knows what's coming next and he wants to see these faceless pricks eat crow. 

"Actually, I said nothing of the sort. You mentioned Loki. I set the record straight," Nick replies steadily. Before anyone can interrupt him, he goes on and Phil knows him well enough to know that he's only just stopping himself from putting on a Cheshire cat smile. "But since you've mentioned that killing spree, allow me to set the record straight even further. My agent was not responsible for any of those deaths." 

The man who'd spoken first snorts at that. "You're trying to tell me that there is someone else running around the country who just so happens to be using a bow and arrow? A man who physically bears some resemblance to Agent Barton?" 

"As a matter of fact," Nick replies and flicks a wrist. A small television between himself and Maria flickers to life to show an image of Barney Barton, still healing from the damage Clint had delivered, sitting in a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding cell. "People, meet Barney Barton. This is the man responsible for all of the recent death and destruction. You'll notice that he's in my custody. You'll be happy to know that that is exactly where he'll be staying. It should interest you to know that Agent Barton was instrumental in capturing him." 

"Director Fury--" 

Nick cuts across the council member without remorse. "It should also interest you to know that I've got a group of people in custody who all claim to have been hired by you to hunt down my agent and capture him." Another flick of Nick's wrist brings up a series of images of showing the group of people the Avengers brought back with them. Each one of them is in a cell by themselves. Phil wishes he could see the council's faces as they look upon Mac Gargan and Bullseye. Phil wants to know if they feel any guilt over their actions. 

"We have no idea who these people are, Director Fury, but--" 

Nick cuts across the council member once more. "I have it on good authority that you put together your own team and gave them authorization to hunt down my agent. I also understand that you informed them that they were allowed to use whatever means necessary to bring in Agent Barton. I believe you may have suggested that dead was just as good as alive. If not for the timely intervention of the Avengers, your team of ruthless killers might have succeeded." 

When Nick pauses, no one dares speak. A third flick of his wrist brings up footage of a jet leaving the helicarrier with a nuclear warhead on board. There is audio recording of the order being given to the pilot. "That's apparently not the first time you put millions of innocent people in danger." 

Again, there's silence from the shadowed faces. 

"What I've got here is concrete evidence that you willfully ordered a nuclear strike on New York City. Evidence that proves you were unconcerned with the lives of millions of people. You were willing to nuke a major metropolitan area in order to deal with an alien invasion." Nick flicks the images back to the captured criminals. "Between that and the fact that you hired a group of villains to hunt down one of the Avengers, there's enough evidence here to have you all incarcerated for a very long time."

"Are you threatening us, Director Fury?" a male council member asks. Phil thinks he detects a touch of fear in the man's voice. 

"I don't make threats. I make promises," Nick replies evenly. 

There's absolute silence for several long moments as the members of the World Security Council considers what Nick's told them. Finally, one of the shadowed faces heaves a deep sigh. "Very well. Upon considering the evidence, we are convinced that Agent Barton was acting in the best interests of the country and consider this matter closed." The screens go dark before anyone can say anything else. 

Without a word, Maria turns and exits the room. Director Fury shifts his attention to where Phil and Clint stand. "Try to stay out of trouble for a while, Agent Barton," Fury tells him. 

"Yes, sir," Clint responds. "Thank you, sir." 

"You're a good agent, Barton." Fury turns to the television and retrieves a disc from the television containing his evidence. Phil sees the dismissal in his actions and curls a hand around Clint's arm. 

"Thank you, sir," Clint says before Phil pulls him through the door. They're silent for a long while as they make their way up one corridor and down another. When they step into the elevator, Phil pushes the button for the garage. Clint gives him a questioning look but says nothing. The ride in the elevator is made without speaking. While they have never gone to great lengths to hide their relationship, they've never been very out and open about it in the work place. So they keep their distance and maintain their professionalism. But only until they step off the elevator and out into the parking garage. 

"Phil?" Clint asks as he follows Phil toward Phil's car. 

"I thought we might go have some lunch to celebrate the way the director just fucked over the World Security Council," Phil suggests lightly. His mildly vindictive tone earns him a soft chuckle from Clint. 

"He's really good at that," Clint comments with admiration. 

"He's had a lot of practice. But they are also very good at putting themselves in a position where he can fuck them over. It balances out nicely," Phil says as he stops beside his car. A glance around shows him they're alone and he does something that he's never done at work before. He curls his fists into Clint's shirt and pulls him close. "Now. How about some lunch?" 

"Where would you like to go?" Clint asks, eyes darkening in expectation. 

"Chinese sounds good to me. What do you think?" Phil tugs him a little closer so that their bodies touch from knee to waist. 

"Chinese sounds perfect. I even know what I want for dessert," Clint replies. His voice is dripping with suggestion. Phil gives him a small smile.

"That sounds like a good dessert. I think we can swing some dessert." Clint grins at that. Phil pulls him even closer. "I can even give you a taste of what's on the menu." Phil lets his lips brush Clint's lightly. Clint makes a sound deep in his chest and then his mouth is on Phil's for a kiss that is slow and heated so that it burns through his veins straight to his very core. It is a preview and a promise. They pull apart before they can get too lost in the kiss and climb into the car. 

Phil puts the key in the ignition and turns the engine over. He shifts the car into reverse and pulls out of the parking space. Hand on the stick shift, he turns to look at Clint. "I think we'll skip lunch and go right to dessert."


End file.
